


the courtship of doctor newton geiszler in its many iterations, as conducted by doctor hermann gottlieb

by OnyxSphinx



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animal Shifters, Courting Rituals, F/F, Female Newton Geiszler/Female Hermann Gottlieb, Fluff, Getting Together, set ten years post pru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23144467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: or: Hermann realises that it's beenthirty yearsand if she doesn't initiate something, they're going to die before anything ever happens
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	the courtship of doctor newton geiszler in its many iterations, as conducted by doctor hermann gottlieb

**Author's Note:**

> *drops in with a lesbian hermann shifter au* have fun

“Happy not being dead anniversary,” Newton says.

She’s holding a plate with a piece of store-bought cake on it; Hermann can practically smell the number of preservatives in the icing; shudders as Newton begins to shovel it into her mouth.

“ _Why_ exactly, of all things, are you choosing to celebrate _this?_ ” Hermann asks.

Newton takes a moment to chew and swallow—thank _God_ —, and says, “Ten years, man. Ten-year anniversary since the Precursors _didn’t_ manage to destroy humanity. Pretty big milestone, I think.” She spears another piece of cake.

Hermann sighs; opens her mouth to say something, and then stops. “By _Jove_ ,” she says, “Newton, you’re _right_.”

Ten years—God; and then ten years before that, and twelve before then…they’ve known each other for over three _decades_.

Newton doesn’t seem to notice it; but the realisation is hitting Hermann like a ten-ton boulder. Thirty-odd years…She looks at Newton; watches her smile at herself over the cake, face lighting up with delight, and thinks: _oh. I love her._

It’s not a _new_ thought, not by far; but right now, in this moment, it’s the strongest she’s felt it, and the weight, the depth, the _intensity_ of it nearly bowls her over.

Thirty-odd years and she hasn’t said a _thing_.

They’ll be dead at this rate if Hermann doesn’t do _something_.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Newton asks, finally finished with her slice of cake; catching the look on Hermann’s face.

Hermann shrugs. “Not much,” she replies, trying to keep the excitement out of her tone. “Don’t forget to rinse your plate off and keep it away from the kaiju samples, Newton,” she adds; partially a deflection, partially a genuine reminder.

The other grumbles a bit; something about Hermann not needing to act like a helicopter parent, but does as told.

It sticks with Hermann, though, for the rest of the day; the realisation; keeps her preoccupied. Obviously, she’s not about to just _tell_ Newton; she’s not a _fool_. She’ll have to test the waters—see if it’s reciprocated or, if, at least, Newton would be _amenable_ to it.

Flirting’s out; she’s rubbish at it, and always has been. That leaves courting.

Well, she’s never _done_ it, but she has a fair enough idea of how to go about it; and, if necessary, she can always ask Karla; they’re both birds, though Hermann’s a turtledove and Karla’s an osprey, so the courtship process is a bit different, but Karla’s also written multiple papers on the courtship rituals of bird-shifters, so she’d know _something_.

Thank God Newton’s a turtledove as well; Hermann can’t imagine trying to amalgamate courting habits of two different species. Tendo may have been willing to do it for Alison, but Hermann is decidedly _not_ Tendo.

So; she’ll test the waters with courtship.

Smaller gifts to start off with—things Newton will like; trinkets, those sorts of things; something not too showy, but unmistakable as anything _but_ a courting gift, especially coming from _Hermann_ , who isn’t exactly the _type_ to give gifts.

And then, if that goes well, she can move onto larger gifts, and end it with something smaller but personal; a declaration of courtship; a question with two answers—and, God, she hopes Newton says _yes_.

So, then; she’ll begin the courting of Newton Geiszler.

With that thought, she finally drifts off the sleep, a smile on her face.

The next morning, Newton’s in the lab before she is, looking rather chipper; throws Hermann a smile on the way in. “Morning,” she calls, “our new equipment came, _finally_ —also, I finished up my half of the paperwork and put it on your desk, like I said I would.”

“Oh, good,” Hermann sighs. “I was getting a little worried about it, with the deadline and all.”

“Ouch, the lack of trust _hurts_ ,” Newton says; clutching a hand towards her chest, but the scowl is a mock one; there’s a grin breaking beneath it. She must really be happy about the equipment—not that Hermann _blames_ her, honestly; they’ve been sending in requisition forms for _ages_ ; there’s only so much you can do with equipment from the first War.

Hermann smiles back; makes her way over to the desk.

As promised, the papers Newton’s been putting off doing for days are finally done, and stacked neatly, as well; ready for Hermann to integrate with her own and file as a joint report.

Once that’s done, she decides to take a lunch break; there isn’t much that’s pressing, right now; it’s a slow week, and they’re no longer trying to win a war. She considers inviting Newton along, for a moment, but a glance in her direction reveals that the other’s deeply engrossed in her work.

Hermann smiles, involuntarily, at the sight. At fifty-four years old, Newton still retains the almost-childlike energy Hermann’s always known her to have, even if she does complain about a sore back more often.

The break also gives her an opportunity to visit the flea market downtown; Newton’s never been one for flashy, expensive items, and Hermann knows from experience that the odder or more eccentric the item, the more likely Newton is to like it.

She orders some noodles from a hole-in-the-wall place and takes a seat in one of the few chairs to eat it; then, when she’s finished, rises and makes her way towards the city centre.

It’s not as busy as it usually is; it’s only noon on a Wednesday, so Hermann doesn’t have to deal with the usual sea of people, for which she’s rather glad.

In the end, she manages to find a bracelet she knows Newton will love. It’s black leather, and has stylised horseshoe crabs branded into it, and is, in every way, exactly what blends Newton’s personal style into a courtship gift.

The seller, it seems, recognises that; a glint in his eye. “Thirty yuan,” he says, when Hermann asks.

Hermann rolls her eyes. “Fifteen,” she says, because she’s not some _tourist_.

“Twenty-seven,” the man offers.

“Hmm. I’ll buy it online, then,” Hermann says; as nonchalantly as she can, and hopes that it works.

It does; thank God; Hermann _would_ have gone looking online, of course, but it’s not a prospect that she looks at with any great relish. The seller frowns at her, but says, “Fine. Twenty-two. Last deal.”

“Acceptable,” Hermann nods, and pulls out the appropriate bills from her wallet, and tips her head to the man, pocketing the bracelet.

She doesn’t give it to Newton immediately; of course not. That’d be foolish.

She gives it to her that evening.

Hermann’s managed to find a box to put it in, and written a note on it, and then, in a fit of embarrassment, hid it in her desk drawer.

By the time the end of the day comes, she’s almost managed to lose the anxiety she had over it, but it comes rushing back the instant she opens the drawer to take the box out and give it to Newton. Honestly, the amount of nerves she’s feeling over this is ridiculous; it should be easy to do—but of course, nothing involving Newton is ever easy for Hermann.

She rises; holding the box awkwardly in a single hand, and makes her way over to Newton; clears her throat to draw her out of her work.

“Er, Newton,” she says, looking at the floor, trying to summon her courage, “there’s, ah, something I’d like to say to you.”

Newton’s brow furrows; confusion. “Alright,” she says, “shoot.”

“This is for you,” Hermann says, in a rush of breath, setting the box on the table and pushing it towards Newton, refusing to look at it.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Newton peels off her gloves with a snap; pulls the box towards herself, and then opens the lid. “Oh,” she says, “Hermann, this is—this is really nice. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Hermann murmurs. “I—ah, I’m going to clock out, now, so. Goodnight, Newton.” She runs her teeth along the inside of her teeth, and takes a few steps back, baking her way to the door.

It’ll have to be something intimate—final courting gifts always are, and Newton deserves the best that Hermann can give her. She hasn’t any idea _what_ to do for it, but it has to be _good_.

* * *

“Hey,” Newton calls, when she’s almost out the door, and Hermann stops, for a moment; turns around. Newton’s standing, still holding the box, and she smiles at Hermann. “G’night,” she says.Over the next few weeks, Hermann manages to find a few more little trinkets; some pieces of sea-glass, a few more pieces of jewellery; and, once, a shell. Newton seems to rather like all of them, and Hermann’s more than a little delighted at that, to be quite honest.

Newton never keeps any of them on her person, except for the black leather bracelet, but Hermann supposes that it’s understandable; they’re not very practical, really.

After three weeks, Hermann decides it’s high time to move on a bit; time isn’t going to slow _down_ , and Newton’s reception of the initial courting gifts has been—quite _good_ , Hermann thinks; she’s rather optimistic.

She starts with a poster—Newton’s been going off about this one band for _ages_ , and Hermann knows she’s quite fond of collecting posters.

It takes a bit, but Hermann manages to find one.

“Newton,” she says, over dinner; they’ve decided to go out for the night; they take dinner together most nights, nowadays. The conversation is easy, and they laugh easily. “I got this for you; thought you’d, er, like it.”

She extends the rolled-up poster to Newton; nervous, for a beat, and then Newton takes it; smiling. “Thanks, Herms,” she says, and then, when she unrolls it— “oh! Herms, that’s…that’s really nice, man, thank you.”

Hermann smiles as well.

After that, they part ways; Hermann goes back to her own quarters.

“Final stage,” she murmurs to herself, as she changes. “Final stage.” It’s something Newton would say, more than her, but it’s true. She needs to give a—a final gift; let Newton know she’s truly serious about this.

It’ll have to be something intimate—final courting gifts always are, and Newton deserves the best that Hermann can give her. She hasn’t any idea _what_ to do for it, but it has to be _good_.

It takes a bit, but finally, she settles on it: a necklace for Newton with a piece of blue glass and two of her own primary feathers. It’s not much, but it’s very personal.

The next morning, Hermann goes looking for a chain, a piece of blue sea-glass, and someone who can put it all together.

She finds an unexpected ally in Mako; as it turns out, she’s dabbled in jewellery creation. “During the war,” she says, as she twists the needle nose pliers, “when I was young—Stacker taught me. Here—” she twists them again. “Done, Doctor Gottlieb.”

“Thank you, Ms. Mori,” Hermann murmurs, “I much appreciate it.”

Mako smiles at her. “Good luck,” she says, and passes Hermann the necklace.

The necklace is a wonderful piece of craftsmanship, if Hermann does say so herself. She offers it up to Newton with no small amount of pride, and watches Newton’s reaction carefully for the smallest expression.

“Thank you,” Newton says, barely glancing up from her work as she takes it, and puts it into her pocket.

Hermann’s breath stutters.

No reaction…Newton’s rejecting her as gently as possible.

“Oh,” she murmurs, and takes a step back. “I’ll, ah—I’ll be at my desk, if you need me, Newton.”

Newton hums.

Hermann takes it in stride; it’s not the prefered outcome, but she’s mature enough to know when to let things go, and this is one of those times.

“Hermann?” Newt says, a few weeks later. “Can I—can I talk to you?”

“Well, you’re probably going to talk at me regardless,” Hermann says, drily. “Go ahead, then.”

There’s a beat; Newton swallows, hands fidgeting; opens her mouth; closes it, and then opens it again. “I’m sorry,” she blurts. “For, um. For whatever I did, to, to make you—” she gestures widely— “what did I do wrong?”

“Do…wrong?” Hermann echoes.

Newton nods. “You, you’ve stopped being nice. I mean, you’re _nice_ , but not…you were _nicer_ before, and I don’t know…” she trails off.

Oh.

Oh _God_.

Hermann drags in a sharp breath. “You didn’t _realise_ ,” she says, “you didn’t— _God!_ ”

“Sorry?” Newton says; asks, more; “um—for whatever I did.”

“You didn’t—I—” she laughs. “God, Newton, no, you haven’t _done_ anything. You didn’t…I must not have made it clear enough.”

“What?” Newton asks, looking rather bewildered.

“I was _courting_ you,” Hermann says.

“You were _what?_ ” Newton half-shrieks.

It takes a bit, but Hermann manages to get it explained properly in the end; Newton’s no longer gaping at her blankly, and Hermann says, “I’ll, ah, let you take it from here, then.”

“Can I—can I have a bit?” Newton says, after a few moments. “I’m not saying—I just. I need to…think about it.”

“Of course,” Hermann says. “As..as long as you need, Newton.”

* * *

Three days later, Newton walks into the lab on _time_ , and says, “Hey, Herms?”

“Yes—?” Hermann starts; turning around, and then stops when she catches sight of Newton.

Newton’s wearing the necklace, two of the sets of earrings Hermann gave her, and the bracelet hangs on her wrist. It’s not _all_ of the courting gifts, but it’s a substantial portion of the practical ones. In her hands, she’s holding a book, and she’s wearing a smile.

Hermann’s mouth dries. “Newton?” she croaks.

“Hermann,” Newton begins, “I accept your offer of courtship. Do you accept mine?”

She offers the book to Hermann.

Hands shaking slightly, Hermann takes it; looks over it.

It’s a first-edition copy of—

“ _Newton!_ ” she says, “you shouldn’t’ve…”

“Do you?” Newton asks; softly.

It takes a moment to remember; but the instant she does, Hermann cries, “Yes—yes, Newton! I _do!_ ” Eyes prickling with tears, she abandons, for the first time in a long, long time—the first in her life, perhaps—, her usual formalities, and tosses the book onto her desk and takes two steps forward and kisses Newton squarely for the first, but not last, time.

When she pulls back, Newton’s gazing at her, slightly star-stricken. “Wow,” she murmurs, “you kiss really well for an old person, Herms.”

“I’m _one_ year older than you!” Hermann retorts. “I’m only fifty-five!”

Newton grins. “Old geezer,” she teases; and then, “I hope we get older, together. I hope I get to see you when I’m sixty, and seventy, and eighty, and—and until the day I die.”

“Shut up,” Hermann mumbles; but she’s grinning as well, now; and when Newton reaches for her hand, she takes it, and then kisses her again.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
